


Faith's Sake

by MellytheHun



Series: Tumblr Sterek Prompts [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-06 09:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18385889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: 6. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”





	Faith's Sake

Derek steps into the loft, drops his bags by the closed door, and walks into the kitchen.

His senses are dulled from the onslaught of sensory input from the airport, so he manages to go about ten minutes without hearing Stiles’ heartbeat, smelling him, or considering either of those things unusual.

He pours himself a glass of water from the tap, and then turns to go up the stairs, fully intending to grab a book, and plop on the couch to relax. Scott and his friends don't need to know he's home quite yet - he needs a break from people for at least a full day before he plunges back into socializing.

When he gets to the foot of the stairs though, he pauses, because he’s pretty sure he just saw someone sitting up in his bed, situated near the French windows.

He takes three steps backwards, and then turns about-face to find Stiles staring at him wide-eyed, freckled chest pale even against the white (new?) sheets.

They stare at each other for a few beats, Derek so fried from his travels that he can’t even muster the energy to be mad. 

A strange phenomenon with Stiles is that he rarely feels like Stiles is invading his space in situations like this, where, if it were anyone else, he’d feel _feral_.

Somehow, when it’s Stiles, it doesn’t register in his brain as anything more than ‘ah, it is the Stiles in my domain again, taking up space, touching my things, and I feel no urgent need to get rid of him.’

“Asking ‘what are you doing here,’ is too double-sided-sitcom style for me,” Stiles starts, voice shaky, “On good days my life is like Stephen King’s rendition of Saved By the Bell, but I’m not usually the one that gets caught at the prom with two dates, you know? Scott’s the main character of that particular sitcom brand.”

Derek notices the pile of clothes on the dresser to the left. 

“You’re naked.”

Stiles opens his mouth, and then promptly shuts it.

Derek’s eyes move back to his, and he adds, “and you’re in my bed.”

Nodding, Stiles replies, “to be honest, this isn’t your finest showcase of deductive skills.”

Apparently ignoring Stiles’ snark, Derek asks simply, “is there a _reason_ you’re naked in my bed?”

“I’ve taken up sleeping naked,” Stiles admits, “I’m reconditioning Scott. He has a bad habit of barging in my room without knocking, so…”

“This isn’t your room,” Derek supplies.

“Right, I’m, uh…” Stiles looks away finally, picking at the white sheets, “I didn’t expect you to come back? Sort of, like... ever. So... I come here sometimes… I just sleep. Usually.”

“Usually?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “I have a healthy libido, okay? It’s not like I’m having parties here with black jack and hookers, I’m just jerking one out every now and again. I even made sure to get new sheets, so I wouldn’t disrespect your memory, or whatever.”

Derek watches him cautiously, tilting his head in a way that’s alarmingly similar to a confused dog.

“Why here?”

“Feels safe here,” Stiles answers honestly, if a little quietly.

“How in the world could you feel safe here?” Derek asks, images of all the violence and death wrought upon his floors flashing in his mind’s eye.

Stiles sighs, and rubs at his wrists compulsively, “I… it’s just that… everywhere you’ve been feels sort of… sacred.”

Derek’s brows spring up, his face and shoulders go a little slack.

Stiles swallows loudly.

“I can smell you here, faintly. Like on the books, and on the bathroom towels, on some of the glassware. Feels like you’re here sometimes. Like this place is protected by you. Like it’s safe.”

“You know that’s not remotely true,” Derek says, because as soon as a nice feeling starts to swell in him, he has to smother it into submission with ice water.

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles mutters, “Some people go to churches to believe in stuff that make them feel better, make them feel safe. Some people do yoga at sunrise on mountains for that. Some people wear specific garments, some people read certain books - none of it is real in a tangible way, and I get that. None of it is stuff you can touch and see. It’s just a feeling. Just faith. And instead of a church or a mountain, I go to a rundown loft.”

Stiles looks up at Derek again, wrists looking a little red from being rubbed too hard. His cheeks are rosy.

Derek silently admires the way his hair is mussed.

“I… really make you feel that safe?”

“You’ve literally put your life on the line to protect mine when you had nothing to gain from it,” Stiles chuckles darkly, “Yeah. You make me feel safe.”

 _Even in absence_ , is left unsaid, but they both hear it.

Derek walks over to the right bedside table, and sets down his glass of water. He toes off his shoes, slips his shirt off, and starts listening to the booming in Stiles’ chest.

When he reaches for his belt, he stares down at Stiles, and asks, “you still feel safe?”

Stiles’ face goes dark red, and the blotches of color start to spread down his chest, but he nods, licking his lips.

Derek slips his belt out of the loops of his jeans, and then sits down on the bed to peel off his socks. He lies down on the top of the covers, tucks his arms under his head, and shuts his eyes.

“I… uh… am I supposed to be understanding social signals here? Because, I’m not,” Stiles announces.

Derek smirks, and says, “I’m home. I had a long two days of travel to get back, and I want a nap. If you promise not to drool, you can lay on me.”

Stiles shuffles closer, cautiously, nervous, smelling like citrus and eustress. He tucks his head against Derek’s chest, and Derek’s arm comes down from behind his head to curl over Stiles’ shoulder. It’s a gentle, loose hold. 

“I will absolutely drool on you,” Stiles whispers.

Derek chuckles, and Stiles’ heart skips at the way it makes Derek’s chest rumble under him. Derek rubs Stiles’ shoulder to calm him.

“I know.”

“Now that you’re home, does this mean I can’t come over anymore?”

“You can come over whenever you want,” Derek mumbles, adding sweetly, “Always feels safer when you’re around.”

Stiles’ face is hot against Derek’s chest, and it makes Derek’s heart swell in a way he knows he shouldn’t enjoy.

Stiles sighs contentedly against him, and they fall asleep around 3pm, and the sun is up, but neither of them move or wake for a long while. Stiles’ arm stays draped over Derek’s stomach, and Derek’s hand cups Stiles’ shoulder the whole while. 

And Stiles drools on Derek’s chest.


End file.
